


Get The Gang Together

by romanticizingchemicals



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU Gangs, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Baby G, Death spells - Freeform, Frerard, Gang fight, Gangs, Hesitant alien, M/M, different first meeting, frank iero - Freeform, gang rivalry, gerard way - Freeform, get the gang together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticizingchemicals/pseuds/romanticizingchemicals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>•this will be a few chapters long, and granted, I have no idea what I'm doing! I know nothing of gangs and shit, so excuse me kindly•</p><p>Title Inspitation: Get The Gang Together, by Gerard Way (Hesitant Alien)</p><p>Why must there be fighting? On the streets of Belleville, there's tons of it, but why? Why can't everyone be happy and eat cakes and shit? </p><p>Because that's not how the world works.</p><p>Frank and Gerard are in rival gangs, and there's a constant competition for the best, scariest gang in town. But what happens when they helplessly fall in love? Maybe they're not so big and tough after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Won't You Look Pretty Walking Down The Street

Frank's P.O.V.

***

"Sweet Pea," someone whispers, and I roll my eyes irritably. I swear to God, how many times do I have to tell these people that my name isn't Sweet Pea? "You fucker, it's just Frank. I don't have a fucking gang name," I snap, spinning around to face the figure.

 

I don't even know his name, but I do know that he's been on a bender for the past few days. He reeks of drugs, his eyes tired with them, the scent on his breath. "Sorry, Benj," he replies, and I give him an incredulous glare. "Where the fuck do you get 'Benj' from?" I cry, and he shushes me.

 

It's about midnight, and the gang is on their way to the abandoned general store, intent on attending the Meeting of Gangs. We missed it last year, so we're doing our best to make it this year. The dark night envelopes most of my gang members, so I can only see those tinted by the dim light of street lamps. "Benjamin Franklin," the man explains, his voice hoarse, "Frank is short for Franklin. Plus, you can't just have people calling you by your first name. It's too revealing."

 

I click my tongue, because I could care less about some stupid gang name. I'm Frank, and I always will be. "You think I care?" I ask, and the guy goes silent, and I look back around the corner, gesturing for everyone to follow me as I walk down the alleyway. "How about Leathermouth? It sounds good. Suits you," another man says, and I stop walking. They need to shut up, because we're going to get caught at this rate. 

 

"Holy shit, I swear, the next person that talks is getting their tongue cut out," I threaten seriously, and then continue down the dark path. There's a small beam of light coming from a cracked door, so I approach it and glance inside.

 

Through the opening, I can see many men, and women, sitting on the floor, in chairs, standing, and just anywhere they can fit. There has to be at least twenty people in there. I nod and take a breath, turning back around to face the five people of my gang. "Okay, guys. Remember not to make fools out of yourselves, and remember whose gang you're a part of," Fro, the leader of our gang, warns, and we nod. I grin at our confidence and open the door a little more, and the gang slips inside.

 

I follow them, closing the door behind me, marveling at the other gangs of Belleville. For such a small town, there sure are a lot of gangs. I try not to let my guard down, because every single person in this room could kill me at any given moment. So, I keep a hand on my sheath at all times, prepared to hurt a motherfucker if I must. "Hey, watch it," someone hisses at me as I bump into them, and I glare at them.

 

"Maybe if your fat ass wasn't in the way, then I wouldn't have bumped into you," I retort cockily. This is both a blessing and a curse, my sardonic abilities; I'm quick with words, but cocky and prone to getting beat up. Besides, I'm only five foot four. The person turns on me and pins me against a wall, knocking the breath out of me. He's at least a foot taller than myself, very broad and bulky, reeking of gasoline.

 

His breath is hot against my face as he stares at me angrily. "Say that again, pimp," he spits, and I blink. "Gladly," I reply sarcastically, "I said–"

 

"Hey, hey, break it up," a man walks over to us, pushing the man off of me and supporting me before I can fall over. I stare up at him, quite alarmed at his soft appearance. His hair is jet black, messy and longer than I would expect. It's not long, but it's longer than short. My attacker straightens his vest, which is littered with pins and badges. "Pick on someone your one size next time," he growls at me before glancing at the person that had stopped the fight, and then walks away.

 

I resume my inspection of this person, admiring his hazel eyes and thick eyebrows. His lashes are very long for a guy, and his features are very soft. He smells of cigarettes and maybe beer, but it's not too overwhelming. In fact, it's comforting. "Hello," he says with a small smile, letting go of me and shoving his hands into the pockets of some tight, torn skinny jeans. I bite my lip and return the smile. "Hey," I reply, and he puts out a hand. 

 

"I'm Big G," he introduces himself, and I take his hand, shaking it quickly. "Fra–" I begin, but then remember what that guy had said, "Leather. Leathermouth." Big G smiles and puts his hand back into his pocket. "Great to meet you. What gang do you run?" he asks, and I smirk. "Oh, I don't run it," I say, slightly ashamed, "But it's called Death Spells."

 

At this, he furrows his brow and steps away from me, suddenly disgusted. " _Death Spells_ _?_ How come I haven't seen _you_ before?" Something inside of me breaks, and maybe, just maybe, it's my heart. Just at the mention of my gang, this guy hates me. And he's extremely attractive, too. "I don't... I've only been in the gang for a year and some change," I reply slowly, and he pulls his lips into a line.

 

"Okay. Well, I need to call the meeting together. Nice meeting you, Leathermouth," he says tightly, and my heart flutters. Yes, I like this man. He's cute, he's very hot, and I can't get enough of his voice. He walks away, and I watch him, my gang approaching me slowly. "You're too soft," the leader, Fro, says critically, and I wince. To be called soft is a really terrible insult, and I bite my cheek.

 

Big G stands up on a table in the middle of the room, clearing his throat and calling, "Hey, everyone! Welcome to the annual Meeting of Gangs!" The room silences, a few murmurs going around, and he places his hands on his hips. Sassy little bastard. Fro scoffs and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall beside me. "The little cunt hasn't changed at all," he whispers to another one of the gang members, who nods. Big G continues talking, shifting his weight to his other foot. 

 

"Just as an annual update," he begins, "We'll name off the gangs in attendance, and then go through rival gangs and alliances. There are a few upcoming gang fights that I need to mention as well." Everyone begins to whisper, and Big G gazes at us sternly. I melt under that gaze, scolding myself for falling for someone so helplessly out of my league. Being in a gang, I'd expect myself to be tougher.

 

But I'm not.

 

Big G coughs loudly, and the room quiets down again. "Noisy motherfuckers," he says under his breath, receiving a few dirty looks, "Anyways. Okay, please separate into your gangs and state your gang names. I need to know who all is in attendance." There's a lot of shuffling and noise as people organize into smaller groups, a grand total of four groups forming. There are five to seven people in each group, some tougher in appearance than others.

 

"Those of you who were here last year know how this works. Leader at the front," Big G continues, and Fro moves to the front of our group, his wild mass of curly hair bouncing as he walks. I want to laugh, because the hair just makes him look ridiculous at times, but no one's allowed to talk to him about his hair.

 

Big G leaps down from the table, landing gracefully. I imagine myself doing the same thing, tripping and then falling flat onto my face. With all I'm worth, I contain my laughter, tears beginning to form at the struggle. Big G walks around the room, and points to one of the groups across the room. "Name?" he asks, and the leader crosses his arms, nodding his head. "Siren Sleepers," he says, his voice raspy. 

 

There's a brief exchanging of conversation between the man and Big G, though I cannot hear a word of it, and the man laughs loudly. Big G moves onto the next one, and the man at the front says, "Piercing Veils." These would make some wicked band names, in all honesty. Big G nods and moves onto the next group, which there is no one at the front of. "This is my gang," he said aloud, gesturing to the group of men, "Baby G. The softer your gang name, the more dangerous you are." Everyone laughs, except for my gang. I laugh, but receive a quick blow to the ribs from Fro.

 

Big G finally makes his way over to my gang, and Fro's face pinches into one of disgust. " _Gerard_ ," he growls, and Big G sneers. So, his name is Gerard? " _Ray_ ," he replies in an equally deathly voice. So, I take it the two know each other. "Death Spells, the most _dangerous_ gang in Belleville," Fro declares, and the Piercing Veils gang whoops and hollers along with our gang. I know that we're really great friends with the Piercing Veils gang, as we greet them whenever we pass and aid them in any gang fights they have.

 

"I think not. Anyways, to go over current alliances, those maintaining neutrality, and _rivalries_ ," Gerard announces, glancing quickly at Fro as he says the "rivalries" part, and then it dawns upon me. Though it saddens me greatly to realize this, and I know in my heart that my chances with Gerard are now none, I have to accept it, because I'm in a gang. 

 

Death Spells and Baby G are rival gangs.


	2. Kiss Me You Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I use this title for many chapters in many books, but it fits what's about to happen perfectly. Yes, what you think is going to happen.
> 
> Or is it?
> 
> xoromanticizingchemicals

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

Yes, these meetings get quite old and boring, especially when it's the same three gangs each year. But now that fucking Death Spells is here, it's even worse. We're rival gangs, and I have an awful relationship with Ray, the head of the gang. It seems as though he's acquired a new member over the past two years, and fuck, this kid is hot.

 

He seems a little too young to be in a gang, but then again, I get the same reaction. I've been told quite a few times that I appear to be sixteen, though I'm approaching nineteen. In all honesty, though, I do look very young. But this new guy, Leathermouth, is just so fucking adorable. The long-shaved hair is amazing, dyed red and shaved on one side and black and long on the other. His piercings add a unique contrast to his face, his heavily-hooded eyes droopy with sleep. He seems tired, and I just can't get enough of his appearance alone. 

 

But he's in Death Spells. And I'm in Baby G. Maybe if I wasn't the leader of the gang, we could be a thing, but we're not. 

 

"So gangs in current alliances are Sleeping Sirens and Baby G," I begin, both gangs hollering and pumping their fists, "And there's also Death Spells and Piercing Veils." More cheers erupt, and I silence them with by raising my hand. "And rivalries include Baby G and Death Spells, as of the moment. Neutrality is maintained by Piercing Veils and Sleeping Sirens, though alliances call for assistance in fights. Speaking of," I continue, "There are two upcoming gang fights this week. One will be between the two buildings by McDonald's, and the other will be behind my apartment complex."

 

Everyone here knows where I live, as I'm there most of the time smoking on the balcony. The room breaks into whispers, and I step down from the table, Leathermouth approaching me. "So, I guess we're... We're rivals?" he asks sadly, and I bite my bottom lip. How can I tell that face that we're enemies? 

 

"Just because our gangs are doesn't mean that we have to be," I whisper, wiping a random smudge of dirt off of his cheek. Where the fuck is all of this is coming from, I have no idea. What am I saying? This isn't fucking Romeo and Juliet. 

 

Leathermouth gapes, his eyes wide and unbelieving, and I turn to leave, but he grabs me by my jacket sleeve. I spin back around and observe him, glancing nervously at Ray. If Ray sees him, he's dead. "I'm Frank, by the way," Leathermouth says quickly, and then lets go and turns back to his gang, which is leaving. I stand there a moment and watch him go, unable to help but notice how those jeans hug his waist and his ass and...

 

"Big G," someone's voice cuts through my thoughts, and I turn around quickly to find Mikey waiting. I grimace and roll my eyes. "Mikey, I'm your brother. You don't have to call me that," I remind him, and he sighs.

 

If I'm going to be completely honest, this whole gang thing is getting old. I find that it's becoming more of a joke than anything, like a failed attempt at some stupid childhood club. I feel ridiculous fighting and sneaking around, unsure of where my life is going. 

 

I place a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "I know, but... I just feel more connected with the gang when I call you that," he explains apologetically, and I shrug. "That's okay. Just please don't forget that I'm your brother first, gang leader second," I reply gently, clapping him on the shoulder and walking around him to meet up with my gang once more before heading to my apartment. "Be at the alley by noon tomorrow. That's when the fight starts," I tell them, and they nod.

 

Wood, or Bob, steps forward and smiles. "You did great, Big G. Same old speech, same old story," he says, and then walks away. One by one, the men in the room disappear, and I find myself suddenly alone. Mikey lives with me, but he's probably spending the night at Bob's place. I can't even deal with gang names anymore.

 

I sigh and collect my belongings, which are few, and then turn out the lights and make my way back out into the night. Though the meeting was shorter than expected, it was somewhat eventful and tiring. I hate doing this year after year, and this whole gang thing seems so childish. And now the gangs of Belleville are meeting up tomorrow to fight, just like we always do. The constant competition is enough to make a grown man want to gouge out his eyes, because it's so stressful to be in this repetitive state of always trying to be better than some other gang. But I'll never tell anyone that I feel this way; they'll skin me alive and mock me for being so soft.

 

"Hey," a voice says quietly, and I nearly shit myself. My heart stops and I turn around, taking the small knife I keep in my pocket out and pressing it against the person's throat.

 

They gasp and I try to identify them through the darkness. "Who the fuck do you think you are, scaring me at this hour? What the fuck are you on?" I demand, shoving the figure harder against the brick wall of the building. They struggle to breathe, and I notice that they're considerably shorter than me. "F-Frank?"

 

The man's lips curl back to reveal a white, apologetic smile. "Sorry, Gerard," Frank peeps, and I release him. He gasps for air and falls back into the wall, rubbing his throat. "How do you... How do you know my name?" I hiss, trying to seem tough. I'm really not.

 

"Ray and you were talking," he admits sheepishly, scratching his neck, "I just wanted to talk to you." I purse my lips but anxiously tilt my head to the side. What does he want to talk about? "Shitty of you to eavesdrop," I spit, excitement dripping from my words.

 

Frank smirks and giggles, and I take a few moments to admire that laugh. It's weird, yes, and it's a pot laugh. The kid smokes pot. "I know, but when there's a hot guy talking to my gang leader, I'm immediately interested," he says testily, raising an eyebrow. My face reddens, and I'm thankful for the darkness. "Oh?" is all I can manage to say.

 

He crosses his arms and grins. "Yeah. Which brings me to ask you if maybe you'd ignore this stupid rivalry and be my friend," Frank continues, and my breath hitches in my throat. This rivalry has been going on for at least three years, and now some cute teenager off the streets is asking me to completely deny it to be my friend?

 

There's only one logical answer to that.

 

"Fuck yeah," I say through a smile, completely surprised by myself. Why am I agreeing to be this person's friend if they're my enemy? I'm in love with the enemy. Fuck.

 

Frank claps his hands together like a child, and you'd never guess that he was in a gang. "Great! You just seem like such a cool guy, and I hate that we have to be separated by a dumb rivalry," he cheers, and I bite my cheek. Do I want to be... more than friends? Am I possibly feeling something more than a friendly attraction to this man? 

 

"It's like in Romeo and Juliet," I say before I can stop myself, the words hanging in midair. Frank's eyes widen and catch the glint of the moonlight, which is surprisingly bright. "Are you suggesting something?" he asks curiously, and in that moment, I realize that I have fucked up. "Maybe I am."

 

Silence. Uncomfortable silence. One that is broke by a sudden burst of movement as I'm shoved against the wall, scared for my life and afraid that maybe Frank just softened me up to kill me. But if he's a murderer, sign me up, because he sure as hell is a sexy one. I'm about to scream, but am cut off by Frank's cold, soft lips crashing into my own, creating a fleeting feeling in my stomach. 

 

And shit, is this real? Is this a dream?

 

I feel like I'm in some sort of romantic film, because that's how amazing Frank is at kissing. He moves with the kiss, shoving his body against my own until I can no longer separate being and darkness. We're shadows. My hand is suddenly in his hair, pulling and tugging desperately, because I've never even been kissed before. Not like this. This is new, and I like it. For once, I like this change.

 

Almost greedily, Frank bites my lip and pulls back, his hands tangled in my hair, and we pant for air. Through gasps, I try to form senseless words, but Frank brings a trembling finger to my mouth, tracing my bottom lip. This sends shivers down my spine, and I moan softly. He smirks and ghosts my lips with his own before turning back and jogging back into the streets. 

 

The only thought racing my mind is somewhere along the lines of _fuck_ , but the bliss that I've just experienced is unbelievably memorable. How is it that a small form of affection can send me so over the edge? And then I realize that I've just kissed someone whom I'm supposed to despise, but I don't hate him. I like him.

 

I have a fucking crush on a member of our rival gang.


	3. I'm The Kind of Human Wreckage That You Love

Frank's P.O.V.

***

I think that I may have some serious issues.

 

For one, I'm a teenager and I'm in a fucking gang. I go out at midnight to partake in dumb fights and nearly get killed every single time, being the unfortunate klutz I am. And secondly, my mood shifts at very irregular moments. That's neither here nor there, but I decide to address this on the way back to my small and cramped apartment. Some moments, I feel completely introverted and against the world, never wanting to see the insolent face of another human being ever again. And on other occasions, I experience the exact opposite emotions, feeling reckless and immortal. Like I can do anything. And that's what I feel like right now. 

 

Having just forced a kiss onto a member–the fucking _leader_ –of Death Spells's rival gang, of course I would feel this way. I'm so high on the feeling of temerity that I nearly walk out in front a car, the only thing alerting me of their presence the loud honk that sounds from the angry driver. My heart leaps and I stop walking to let them pass, and once they do, I continue walking across the street to my apartment complex. Once I reach the stairs to the second floor, I ascend them, fishing for my cigarettes in my pocket.

 

Upon finding a box, I reach the top of the stairs and step outside the door of my room, taking out a cigarette and lighting the joint with my lighter. I happen to have several purposes for this lighter, whether it be to light my many cigarettes, to inflict harm upon my wrists and legs, or during gang fights. The second being the saddest, I choose to not think about it while staring longingly at the lighter, instead shoving it back into my pocket and letting the joint rest lazily between my lips. 

 

My thoughts wander aimlessly back to Gerard and how I had kissed him so suddenly, and how he had actually kissed me back. That's something that I didn't think would actually happen, so I was extremely surprised once he started pulling on my hair and pushing his lips further into mine. And that's another thing. Gerard's lips tasted of cigarettes and coffee, the slightest hint of Chapstick lingering on them as well. I crave that taste, even though I've only experienced this sensation once.

 

It's not enough. 

 

Grabbing the cigarette between my fingers, I inhale some of the smoke and hold it in for a few moments, blowing it out and watching the dark smoke dance in front of me. I repeat this action several times before the embers die, the butt blackening and losing its addictive taste. I throw it to the ground and stomp it out, kicking the blackened remains over the balcony and to the grassy blanket beneath me.

 

Sighing, I glance at the dark sky, wanting it to engulf me and this feeling in my chest. Want. Desire. Lust, even. 

 

I spin on my heel and take my key out of my pocket, my pinky brushing the lighter and sending another surge of want through my body. Maybe I can drown out these unattainable feelings with pain... No. Not tonight. 

 

Tiredness sweeps over me like a flood, and I sway on the spot, my hand on the knob of the door the only way to support myself. I turn it quickly and stumble inside, closing it behind me and locking every lock. I can never be too careful; this place is sketchy as fuck. I don't bother to turn on any lights as I pad through the dark room, finding my way to my bedroom and tripping over a stack of comics. 

 

I land with a painful thud, hitting my elbow on my nightstand on the way down, my lamp following me as I crumple to the ground. I scream in agony as the lamp hits my head, and I just can't function. My head pounds from the impact, nerves all through my arm shocked, my knees also twitching with pain. "Fucking comics and shit," I whisper into the darkness, talking to myself for the norm. It's pathetic, but I have no real friends. I like to think that every member of Death Spells is my friend, but then again, I'm practically unlovable.

 

A few years ago, my mother kicked me out of the house upon discovering my sexuality and possession of drugs, unapproving in every way possible. My mind flashes back to the memory, though I do my best to ignore it.

 

_"Frank Anthony Iero, you better get your ass down here before I call the cops!" my mother screeches, and my heart stops. Had the principal actually followed through on his threats? Did he actually call her and tell her that he had found the bottles and the drugs? Taking a shaky breath, I open my door and peer down the steps, my mother at the bottom, in her white, trembling hand a phone._

 

_Fuck._

 

_Wide-eyed, I pray to God that she hasn't found out. "I am not kidding you! Are you fucking serious? I hope you know how much trouble you're in. Crack?" she cries, and I swallow hard as I step out of my room. So she has found out. She's discovered everything that I've been trying so hard to hide for the past two years. "I can explain," I choke helplessly, but she holds up a swift hand._

 

_"I don't want your excuses. Don't you dare even start with me. I cannot believe that you're doing illegal drugs, and at this age!" she screams, her voice shaking the house and filling my head, "This is fucking ridiculous! And on top of that..." There's more? Tears are already threatening to spill from my frightened eyes, and as if that's not enough, she starts to ascend the staircase, and I cower against my door. "You're gay?" she spits, gripping my wrist, "And don't lie, because your friend Devon told me every single fucking detail!"_

 

 _I cry out as she jerks me slightly. "Answer me, damnit!" she yells, and I start to sob, shaking and terrified. I nod, so ashamed of myself, and she shoves me against the door, letting me go. I crumple to the ground and continue to cry, shaking my head and cupping my tear-stained face in my hands. "Fucking disgrace. You're unlovable. Out of my house. Out!"_  

 

I shudder at the thought and struggle to my feet, rubbing my temple and shaking my head. That's the past. I have to let go of it. I pull my hoodie over my head and throw it to the ground, followed by my pants and shirt, along with my socks and shoes. I feel around for my bed, and when I find it, I toss myself in the direction, landing with a loud creaking noise. The bed jolts slightly, and I crawl under the old, dusty covers. My mind dares to try and recall kissing Gerard, but I refuse to remember it, because why would he want to kiss me? I'm pathetic.

 

Instead, I plan for the fight tomorrow, knowing that I'll have to fight against Gerard, his gang, and their allies. I don't want to. Honestly, I'm done with the fighting. I'm done with everything. Depression courses through my veins, and I feel nothing at all. Nothing. Nothingness. I seriously have no idea how the fuck my emotions can change so quickly, from bold to terrified to depressed.

 

I'm an emotional wreck.


	4. Well Are You Ready Ray?

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

I slip my hands through the sleeves of the black leather jacket, tugging it around the front and examining myself in the mirror. My appearance is hideous, as it usually is, and I sigh at how hideous I am. "Can't manage to look decent? Not at least today?" I ask my reflection sadly, and examine my beat up Converse. They're beat up beyond recognition, but I treasure these. They mean the world to me.

 

A knock from the door nearly sends me through the roof, and I walk slowly to it, peeping through the looking hole. Through it, I can see Mikey, whom is talking to Bob. I bite my tongue and unlock the door, cracking it a smidge and glancing out at the two. Miley shoves the door irritably, knocking me over and onto my bottom. The impact sends pain throughout my body, and I cry out. "Oh, shut up," he says angrily, and the two walk into my house.

 

"Good morning to you, too," I mumble, struggling to my feet and wiping off my pants. Mikey scoffs and crosses his arms expectantly. "Well? Gonna tell us the plan or what? Seeing that KQ and his gang dropped out, it's two against one, and we have the disadvantage! And unless any other gangs show up, we're screwed," he spits, and I raise my eyebrows in alarm. " _What?_ " I cry, slamming the door close and spinning around to face Mikey and Bob. 

 

Bob nods and scratches his stubble. "I thought you knew?" I shake my head frantically. Of course I didn't know! Being the gang leader, I would think that I would be the first to know if anyone dropped out. Especially if it just so happened to be our ally. 

 

"Are you fucking kidding me? Dear God, we're screwed," I mutter dryly, rubbing my temple. The room is full of sighs and scooting as Mikey goes to make himself some coffee as a way to deal with the anger, and Bob slumps against the couch. "What's the excuse?" I ask, and Bob shrugs. "KQ came down with a cold apparently. I dunno," he replied cluelessly, and I grunt angrily, hitting my first against my forehead.

 

Even though I have a pretty strong gang, with two members besides Mikey and Bob, we're all dead unless we come up with something. "Well," I try helplessly, "Any ideas?" Mikey slams the coffee cup against the counter angrily and whips around. "I don't know, Gerard!" he screams, "Unless you have another gang shoved up your ass, then I guess we're fucked!" He pants and turns back around, continuing to make the coffee.

 

Raising my eyebrows at Bob, he simply shrugs. "I have no idea," he whispers, shaking his head. We are so screwed. "Okay. Okay. We could always just _not_ fight," I suggest, and the two shake their heads. 

 

"No way!" Mikey cries, setting down the coffee pot and leaning against the counter, "Baby G is the strongest gang in town; we've never missed a fight. We'll just have to... To..." 

 

Another knock at the door scares the daylights out of everyone, and I walk over to the door to peer at the person. My heart beat quickens wildly as I realize with a drop of my stomach that it's Frank. "Excuse me a s-second," I stutter at Mikey and Bob, and before they can ask any questions, I unlock the door and slip outside. 

 

Frank opens his his mouth to speak, but I shut him up by grabbing his wrist and jerking him away from my door, dragging him around the house and to the side of it. His eyes are wide and surprised, and I stare at them. Into them, more so. They're like an earthy, green forest, and I could get lost in that forest so easily...

 

"You need to call off the fight," Frank says breathlessly, and I can barely register his words. I pull my lips into a line and analyze his appearance. He's sweaty, shivering, and breathing quickly. Scared? "Why?" I ask, and he looks around us.

 

"Fro's dead."

 

***

 

I examine the dead body with an open mouth, my brows furrowed and heart pounding in my chest. 

 

Ray's actually dead.

 

"What... What happened?" I ask for the millionth time, and though I've asked the question so many times, Frank answers it once again. "I have no idea. I came over here so that we could discuss our tactics for the fight and he was just dead. There's that bullet wound, but I don't know who did it," he explains tearfully, and though I've hated Ray since I've met him, I can't help but feel the tears gather at the corners of my eyes.

 

Frank finally breaks down into sobs, and I pull him in for a hug. He's shaking and crying, and I don't do anything but rub Frank's back and stare down at the dead and cold body of Ray Toro. My longtime enemy. Leader of Death Spells. Master mixer. Bad-ass metal head. And he's lifeless. "Shh, it's okay," I whisper into Frank's ear, and he shakes his head. 

 

"No, no it's not!" he cries through gasps for breath, "The blood was fresh when I came in, and I was late! This was all my fault! I could've... I could've stopped it!" My heart drops, and I pull Frank away from me, suddenly stern. "It's _not_ your fault. Don't you _dare_ say that," I spit, and Frank rubs at his eyes frantically, "You couldn't have stopped this."

 

Frank just shakes his head, and tries to speak again. Something urges me forward, and my lips smash into his, sudden and unplanned. So, umm, I've discovered that I'm not the best kisser. There's lots of teeth clashing and accidental lip biting as I attempt to take charge, but I just end up sighing and pulling away, leaning my forehead against Frank's. "What...?" he starts, "My friend is fucking _dead_ and you're here trying to make out with me."

 

I bite my lip, and the words escape my mouth before I can stop them. "But you loved it." 

 

He opens his mouth again, stops, and closes it, scratching his nose. "Okay," he admits, returning to the dead body on the ground, "But we need to call the cops. This is insane and I'm about to have a mental breakdown. Too many emotions." I nod understandingly and reach into my pocket for my phone, taking it out and punching in 9-1-1. The phone rings once before going to an automated voice, "You have reached the police. State your name, location, and emergency."

 

I ramble on about a murder and an unknown location, trying to describe where I am by looking out the window and talking about the dead trees and brown grass. That's real specific. And I can't even believe what's happening right now. Frantic Frank, dead Ray, and now the police. It's fucking insane.

 

"We will be there as quickly as possible. Remain calm and vacate the area," the voice finishes, and I hang up, grabbing Frank's hand. "We need to get out and make room for them," I say, and he sniffs, wiping a glossy eye. I kiss him lightly once more, and then open the door of wherever we are, daring to look over Ray's dead body once more. He's pale, his curly hair plastered to his forehead by drying sweat. There's a flourishing, deep red stain at the center of his white shirt, and he's sprawled out across the floor like a rag doll. Who would do this, I'm not sure, but it's terrifying that someone broke into this man's house and murdered him. 

 

***

 

The police zip up the bag, one of them approaching me. I'm holding a trembling Frank, whom, once again, can no longer balance out his emotional scale. "Sir, can you tell me exactly what happened?" the man asks me, and I let go of Frank, turning him around to face the cop. Frank takes a shaky sigh and babbles about what had happened, describing everything. I even tear up at the sorrow in his voice. Were he and Ray really that close?

 

The police nods and jots down notes as Frank spills the story, leaving out the part about gangs and fights and shit, because we could probably get arrested for some of that. When Frank finishes, the cop closes the book and claps him on the shoulder, shaking him slightly. "We'll find out who did this, and when we do, we'll let you two know," he reassures us, and we nod. They're police. They'll track down the killer. 

 

We watch as the body bag is dragged away from the building, placed into an ambulance, and the procession drives away. Once they're gone, Frank turns to me and wipes his eyes again. "I can't believe that this is happening so fast. I woke up this morning with the desire to kill some motherfucker, and maybe this is why... Ray and I weren't even that close, but if someone can die so quickly, without any warning, then that makes me wonder how quickly I can die." 

 

I nod and bring Frank back into an embrace, running my fingers through his hair lovingly, trying to calm him down. "Yeah," I whisper, "But it's going to be okay. Your gang is obviously fucked, and I'm honestly done with this. Nearly having a heart attack every time authority shows up." Frank chuckles and nods, pulling back. 

 

"Then let's settle the scores. No more gang means no more rivalry," he suggests, and I grin widely. 

 

"No more rivalry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: HE'S NOT BECAUSE HE'S DEAD!
> 
> *conscience: umm, you're a little late... this is the end of the story*
> 
> Oooooh okay umm yeah... Shit.
> 
> xoromanticizingchemicals


	5. It's Better Off This Way, So Much Better Off This Way

Frank's P.O.V.

***

All of these years that I've spent trying to get away from people and they comfort, I think I've forgotten how amazing someone actually caring about you can be. Gerard makes me smile, and I think that everyone deserves someone who makes them feel like there's a tornado of butterflies in their stomach. 

 

And that's what Gee does to me.

 

Gerard's brother, Mikey, sighs and rubs his eyes. "God. And to think, for once, I though I belonged somewhere," he mumbles into his hands, and Bob places an arm around his wiry build. "You do belong. The gang just... It'll live on. It wasn't even a gang. It was an idea," he tries, and Mikey shrugs. "At least I don't have to be freaked out by the cops anymore," he tries optimistically, and we all exchange smiles.

 

It's true; we don't have to get scared around the police anymore. That's a plus. I decide to not even contact any of my gang members until they come around and ask, to which I'll explain Ray's death and my departure from the group. If Baby G isn't a gang anymore, there can be no rivalry. "You're all actually pretty cool, even though I've only known you for five minutes," I tell the group, and they nod. "So let me get this straight," Bob says finally, shaking his hands, "You two met and the Meeting of Gangs, decided to be friends despite the rivalry, and kept it a secret?" 

 

Gee and I nod.

 

"And then it was you that came over this morning to talk to Big G–I mean, Gerard–and you two were gone for an hour and a half because the leader of Death Spells was dead? You found him dead, and you came to Gerard?" 

 

Another nod.

 

Mikey pipes up, "Even before you called the cops?" I cross my arms and sneer at him. I freaked out, okay? If you see your gang leader dead, and you've lost all common sense, you wouldn't be rushing to the cops. Especially if you're in a fucking gang, for God's sake. Mikey rolls his eyes and fixes his glasses. "And now you want to break up the gang, and you want to avoid your gang completely?" Bob continues, and I shrug. 

 

"Pretty much."

 

We sit in silence for a few moments before resuming a casual conversation, exchanging basic information like age and a few life stories. I'm honestly just glad that I'm not tied down by gang obligations, and that I don't have to worry about rivalries and anything. It's much better this way, I think.

 

***

 

"So I know that we've made out and shit, but I kinda still wanna ask, so that it's _official_ ," Gerard starts, looking up from his artwork. I glance over his head at the drawing, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Mhmm?" I ask. I'm staying in his house for the first time ever, though I met him not even a complete day ago, and I'm already falling for him, head over heels. 

 

I'm pathetic. 

 

He sets down the pencil and throws his head back to look up at me, his lips curling into a smile. I kiss his nose playfully, and he swats me away. "You're so cliché," he teased, "But I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my boyfriend. Because, you know, not sure if you're gay or anything." I chuckle and push his head, my hands slipping through his black hair as I do so.

 

"Yes, definitely not gay," I insist with a drawl, "Of course. Yeah, I kinda kissed you like a million times, and as if that wasn't enough affirmation, yes, I'll be your boyfriend." 

 

How a guy from a gang could possibly end up with his enemy, I have no fucking idea. It's all incredible how fast this is all moving, and I can barely grasp the concept that I'm a guy's boyfriend that I haven't even known for twenty four hours. And that my gang leader is dead. 

 

Ray, though we never were too close, will always have a place in my heart. Speaking of, we still haven't learned his killer or anything new. However, I'm coping with his death to the best of my abilities, and in the short amount of time that I've known Gerard, he's helped me understand and come to terms with my many overwhelming emotions. From depression to irrational outbreaks of recklessness, I think I'll get better.

 

Maybe I'll turn out alright after all, with Gee by my side and no gang to get me in trouble. Then again, who says you need to have a gang to get into mischief?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! This has been giving me many more emotions to cope with; I can't write things about deaths of those I love. Especially Fro... 
> 
> Hope that this was okay, because it was pretty shitty and poorly written. Cyber-hugs!
> 
> xoromanticizingchemicals


End file.
